


The Lucky Ones

by webcricket



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9969152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: Birthday challenge fic written with the prompt - “A kiss for good luck?” Fluff with extra ‘luff’ and a capital ‘F’ because birthdays should be sweet.





	

“Cas, wait!” Breathless from sprinting through the bunker, you caught up to the angel before he reached the stairs. It was now or the actual real imminent probability of never based on the supreme peril of the situation the seraph and the Winchesters intended to confront. Ignoring the nervous flip-flopping of your stomach, you gulped, swallowing your uncertainty, voice timorous. “A kiss for good luck?”

He blinked, eyes glinting puzzlement at your odd request, jaw slackening in an as yet unspoken appeal for clarification.

Sensing your resolve failing under the steady regard of those shining sapphire eyes, you mustered your will to action. Laying a palm on his chest for balance and standing up on your tip toes, you pressed a chaste kiss half onto his slightly parted mouth - the prickle of his unshaven cheek stinging your soft lips.

He peered down as you shrank away, expression curious, contemplating your pink flushed cheeks, shyly slumped shoulders, and apparent sudden inability to look anywhere in the vicinity of his vessel.

“Um, so good luck,” you managed to mumble, attempting to redirect any need for further explanation by pretending the quick kiss did not just require every ounce of courage you could gather.

When his tongue darted out to wet his parched lips in preparation to speak, he could taste the residue of strawberry lip balm lingering on his mouth. He determined the taste to be a pleasant one. Brow furrowing in thought, he regarded you with a tilted countenance. “What about Sam and Dean?”

Presented with evidence of the angel not interpreting your action as the embarrassingly cliché romantic gesture you intended it to be, you recovered your ability to look him in the eye. Lifting your chin, you met his searching gaze, offering an honest reply. “They don’t need luck, they have you.”

Eyes softening, a rare small smile illumined the angel’s aspect. Though baffled by it, he appreciated your unyielding faith in him. He didn’t know where it came from, or why he deserved it, but you had a way of shining a light brighter than the brightest in all of creation when his thoughts turned darkest.

Drowning beneath his ocean blue scrutiny, you could not help but mirror his smile.

“You coming, Romeo?” Dean brooded on the landing, hanging over the railing, glaring at the angel, tone impatient, slaying the moment as emotionlessly as a hunter would behead a vampire.

Your indignant eyes flew to the elder Winchester, scowling.

“Death doesn’t wait for any of us, sweetheart.” He shrugged unapologetically, all business-of-the-hunt, and ducked from view.

“That’s because you killed him, Juliet!” your raking shout echoed off the tiled walls.

Cas reached out, brushing your shoulder, drawing your attention. “Thank you Y/N, for the luck.” Shuffling his weight from foot to foot and back again, he hesitated - uncertain if it would be the correct thing to do to offer you hope of their safe return, deciding it would not hurt, yet unable to tell what might very well be a lie directly to your face. He turned to mount the stairs, glancing back over his shoulder without looking at you, tone falsely reassuring, “We’ll be back soon.”

Clamping your eyes shut to hold back the threat of tears, you listened to the padding of the angel’s heels on the steps, counting them, committing the sound to memory, wincing when the metallic clang of the outer door heralded your isolation. Fingers gingerly touching your lips where the tingling sensation of his stubble persisted, you choked back a sob.

Three days later, drained by constant worry and lack of sleep but somehow rallying the reserve energy to vibrate with contained excitement at Sam’s text of their imminent safe return, you stood again in the very same spot in the map room where you and the angel had parted, focus fixed on the door above. You stood, and you stood some more – and then you paced the room, every normally ignored creak and settling sound of the bunker setting you spiraling on edge.

When the boys finally made their tardy entrance hours later, arriving via the garage egress, they discovered you sound asleep, collapsed in a tangled heap of arms and hair on the map table.

“I told you we should have come straight home.” Sam frowned empathetically at your harried appearance.

“Trust me Sammy, the look on her face will be so worth it,” Dean insisted, a dopey smirk jerking his mouth.

“If you say so.” Sam shrugged, ever the skeptic when it came to his brother’s half-baked shenanigans.

“Awe, look, she’s drooling,” Dean snickered in a hushed tone, bending over your frame to peer into your face and poke your lax cheek.

“She’s exhausted.” Castiel shot Dean a reprimanding glare, striding in from the hall door. “And Sam is correct.” The angel crouched protectively beside you, features tempering sorrowfully when he beheld your strained aspect, two fingers swiping lightly across your brow to soothe your worried mind. He carefully hoisted your limp figure from the chair, intending to carry you to your bed where you might find peace, or at least be free from Dean’s teasing.

“Hmm, Cas?” Halfway to your bedroom, you stirred to consciousness, foggy eyed in his strong embrace, muscles tensing, arms instinctively snaking around his neck and shoulders when the realization of being held aloft dawned on you.

Cas abruptly stopped in his tracks, rocking on his heels, explaining, “You fell asleep at the table.”

“Oh.” You relaxed, melting against the heat of his body, cheeks flushing warm and pink at this close proximity.

The angel’s throat bobbed prominently, flustered and wide-eyed as he stared down the hall. “I was, uh, going to put you to bed.”

You wanted to respond with something along the lines of _by all means, don’t let me stop you_ , but before the words could leave your lips, you second guessed yourself. You did that a lot in the presence of the angel.

“But since you’re awake, perhaps we should go to the kitchen instead.” He nervously licked his lips.

You contemplated the square line of his jaw, pondering what mode of thinking could possibly have prompted him to change destinations from the bedroom to the kitchen in the span of a few heartbeats. Even for Cas, this was far north of odd. Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided it didn’t really matter. Kicking your legs playfully, you chuckled, “Well since I don’t seem to have much choice in the matter, by all means, onward my angel.”

Cas squinted down at you, the corner of his mouth quirking into what might pass as an amused smile. He spun around, redirecting to the kitchen.

As you drew closer to your destination, your ears picked up on the familiar muffled murmur of Sam and Dean bickering.

A few feet before the doorway, Cas cleared his throat, angling his chin so as not to shout directly in your ear, “Sam, Dean, Y/N is awake, we’re coming in!”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed. “Hang on!”

A glass crashed on tile, something metal clanged to the floor, someone grunted, and the light emanating from the threshold of the kitchen extinguished - replaced with a shimmering orange glow.

“Cas, what’s going on?” you whispered, peering up into the angel’s glittering eyes.

In answer, he swept you across the threshold.

Your eyes drifted from the cluster of balloons in Sam’s hand, to the bouquet of your favorite flowers in the other, to the pure smile lighting up his face, to the delicious looking candle-illuminated cake outstretched in Dean’s arms, to Dean’s borderline smug self-satisfied grin, then up to the angel’s smiling eyes.

Cas bent to set you lightly on the floor. “Dean said this is a surprise party. Are you surprised?”

“Cas, dude, look at her face.” Sam grinned wider. “She’s surprised.”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Dean beamed, pivoting to slide the cake onto the table.

You bounded over, leaping on his broad back to hug him. “Thanks guys!” Slipping to the floor, you punched his bicep hard.

“Ow, what’s that for?” Dean winced, rubbing the throbbing limb.

“Love tap.” You stuck out your tongue. “And payback for worrying me.”

Sam stepped up behind you, engulfing you in his long arms, embracing you tight and planting a sloppy kiss on the top of your head. “Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

Dean leaned over to peck a kiss on your cheek, pausing to whisper in your ear, “Totally worth it and I’m not even a little bit sorry.” Straightening up, he winked. “Now blow out those candles and make a freaking wish so we can eat. You have no idea how hard it was to spend four hours in the car with that confectionary masterpiece.”

“Yeah, you actually literally have no idea.” Sam laughed.

“It’s a cake, stuffed with pie.” Dean waggled his eyebrows. “Piecaken. One day someone decided to stuff a pie up a cake’s ass and the world became a better place.”

Filling your lungs to capacity, you puffed as hard as you could, milking every last wisp of air from your chest to douse all the candles at once.

“You owe me $20.” Dean thwacked his brother on the pecks, screwing up his face at the unanticipated firmness of them.

Sucking in a deep breath, you glared between them. “Seriously guys?”

“Hey, don’t look at me, I had no doubt about how much you blow.” Dean laughed, crossing the room to flip the lights on and grab utensils and plates.

Sam rolled his eyes. “What did you wish for, Y/N?”

Your gaze settled on the spiraling smoke wafting upward from the extinguished candles, focus rising with it to find the silent angel beyond the table observing what must seem to him to be silly human antics. You sought out his eyes, giving him a tiny blushing smile. “No telling wishes, but maybe if I’m lucky, someday it will come true.”

Dean clattered the plates and forks across the table, startling you.

When you glanced back up, the angel was gone.

A hand grasped your shoulder, twirling you around, and before you could comprehend what was happening, Castiel’s arm wound around your waist, his lips pressing tenderly to yours. Easing away, he steadied your swaying body, hugging you firmly to his chest, blue eyes brimming over with affection. “A kiss for good luck,” he whispered, tone gravel.

You couldn’t suppress the delighted grin blossoming across your features. “I don’t need luck Cas, I have you.” Palms skimming his chest and neck to cup his cheeks, you threaded your fingers into his dark locks and yanked him back to your lips.

Dean’s forkful of chocolate cake slash cherry pie hovered just shy of his gaping jaw.

Sam smirked at his brother, muttering out the side of his mouth, “Hey, you owe me $20. Guess that makes us even.”


End file.
